


My Sometime Is Now

by Patch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Established Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Has a Praise Kink, M/M, Married Sheith, Not Season/Series 08 Compliant, POV Shiro (Voltron), Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Praise Kink, Top Shiro (Voltron), a lot of Shiro thinking about how much he loves Keith, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patch/pseuds/Patch
Summary: Illness had left him feeling tired and worn as a kid, aged beyond his years. The Garrison had taught him strict schedules with early mornings and after that the flight into space and the arena and then the war had kept him on edge enough that a truly restful sleep was entirely a thing of the past.Now though, the war was over.The war was over and he’d beaten every odd to still be there—alive and kicking andhappy.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 202





	My Sometime Is Now

**Author's Note:**

> hashtag sheithliveson

When Shiro wakes it’s a gradual thing—slow and sweet like molasses. His eyelashes are clumped together with sleep and the arm tucked under Keith’s body is numb but despite that, the urge to move is non-existent. 

The bed is warm while the air is cold, the sheets soft against his skin. 

It’s so easy now, to curl back around Keith and bury his nose back into the tangled of black hair and press a kiss against the crown of Keith’s head. 

It’s a novelty, the ability to wake up slowly, at his own leisure—even moreso being able to roll back over and go back to sleep should he still feel tired come morning. 

Illness had left him feeling tired and worn as a kid, aged beyond his years. The Garrison had taught him strict schedules with early mornings and after that the flight into space and the arena and then the war had kept him on edge enough that a truly restful sleep was entirely a thing of the past.

Now though, the war was over. 

The war was over and he’d beaten every odd to still be there—alive and kicking and _happy_. 

Outside, through the small viewing window in their room, stars glittered like diamonds scattered across velvet. Their ship sat unmoving amongst the black, waiting till they woke and decided where they should head next. 

That was another novelty for Shiro. He and Keith had started out their trip with plans as to where and when they went but a year into their travels and they were drifting as they pleased.

It had been a gradual shift for the both of them. Just as life had left its marks on him, Shiro knows it also left its marks on Keith. The both of them being able to sleep through the night—no alarms, no battles to be fought, rarely any nightmares—was a hard won ability.

He doesn’t know if he could have managed it on his own. It was easy to let go of the tightly wound cord of tension within him when he had Keith by his side. Sleeping was easier when he knew Keith was beside him, safe and warm and content, and the distant and irrational fear that they would be caught unawares by an unseen enemy was easy to quieten when he knew that he could handle any threat with Keith there to watch his back.

He hopes he did the same for Keith—allowed him to find his peace easier, together, rather than alone. Keith had told him so, more than once. First in the dead of night under the safety of darkness and then, more and more often, during the day when Shiro could see the steadiness in his gaze, could read the sincerity in the lines of his face.

A small and shameful part of him still worried though—that he couldn’t provide the same security that Keith granted him and, even further down in the uglier parts of him tinted purple like a bruise, that Keith didn’t need him as much as he needed Keith.

The fear was there, irrational and a cold knot heavy in his chest, that he would drive Keith off with the way that he needed him. 

The thought of peace without Keith was far more daunting than the idea of a life of war with him.

“I can feel you thinking.” Keith’s voice comes soft and slurred, half lost to the pillow.

Shiro let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and lets the tension bleed from his body. “Sorry babe,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of his head in apology. “Did I wake you?”

Keith mumbles something else and then, to Shiro’s dismay, starts to twist out of his arms. Shiro lets him go and watches as Keith rolls himself over until he’s facing him, hair spilling around his face and pillow creases lining one cheek. There’s the shine of what might be drool around one corner of his mouth and Keith wipes it away before yawning so wide his jaw cracks.

Shiro’s chest _aches_ with how much he loves him.

It must show on his face because when Keith opens watery eyes, he blinks at him and then snorts, a soft smile spreading across his lips with breathtaking ease. Keith shifts his weight properly onto one side and then reaches over to press lightly against his jaw. Shiro leans into the contact, eagerly, almost desperate with the need to be touching or touched by Keith now that he’s out of his arms.

Like he senses it, Keith keeps his hand there, warm like a brand against his skin. Shiro lets his eyes fall shut and just allows himself to bask in the feeling for a moment—the casual sweep of a thumb against his bottom lip, the feeling of the callouses on Keith’s fingers and the cool press of the band on his finger. 

His heart beats a tattoo in his chest. _I love you I love you I love you_

“I love you,” Keith says softly. 

Shiro’s eyes open. Keith’s looking at him, open and sweet and sleep-rumpled. Shiro wants to kiss him. His lips, his neck, the curving edge of his scar. He’s too far way so he contents himself with pressing one to the palm of his hand and is rewarded with a sigh soft with pleasure. 

“I love you too,” Shiro whispers against his hand. It comes out reverent but even then it can’t truly capture the devotion Shiro feels. It’s all encompassing, this thing that he feels for Keith, words will always fall short.

He knows Keith understands. It’s another thing that Keith’s confessed to him, how this thing he feels for Shiro sometimes feels too large for his skin. The way Keith had said it—the way he’s shown it—takes Shiro’s breath away whenever he thinks about it. Keith knows devotion, knows it in his bone and blood and Shiro thinks it might have been frightening if he didn’t have the same fire burning in his chest.

Instead its awe-inspiring, a gift given with open hands by a man who was well within his rights to keep them closed, pressed tight to his chest. Keith is beautiful and strong and wilful and Shiro has begun to find an equilibrium with the knowledge that if Keith thinks him worthy of it, then he must be. 

He merely hopes that he can be just as good for Keith—can return that devotion in action to a man who deserves it and all the good the world has to offer.

Something flickers in Keith’s lidded eyes, there and gone again before Shiro can catch it.

Before he can do anything, Keith is pressing into his space, hands moving to his shoulders until they’re pushing him gently onto his back and of course Shiro goes.

He finds himself looking up as Keith looks down at him, legs straddling his waist, hair spilling around the two of them like a curtain and eyes cat-like and focused. He hadn’t even seen the shift and the sight makes the breath catch in his chest. 

Shiro’s hands settle at his hips, not to move him but merely to touch. The hands at his shoulders flex slightly and then gently skim down until they’re settled against his pecs. His body thrums at the touch but he waits, content to lie there under Keith and see where he wants to take this.

Keith leans closer and strands of his hair brush against him as he presses harder against Shiro’s chest. Shiro takes the weight happily. Those slitted eyes are still watching him, steady like he’s looking at more than just Shiro’s face, almost like they’re looking _into_ him instead. 

The hands on his chest flex, kneading the muscle ever so slightly and Shiro knows its subconscious but he can’t help the pleased smile trying to work its way onto his face. There was a time when Keith had tried to curb the impulses that came with his half human heritage, or at least the ones that manifested themselves physically like this. It was rare that he did that now and it makes something in Shiro’s chest warm with pride and pleasure to know that he had helped with that.

Keith hums, almost a purr, and then he’s leaning down, lips just barely brushing against Shiro’s. He’s helpless against the urge to chase and he tries, leaning up as Keith pulls back but the hands on his chest are strong and he can’t move. 

Keith does it again and again, teasing him with the faintest touches of his lips until Shiro’s practically straining against him in his desire to follow. 

Keith moves in again but this time veers off the mark to press his lips against the soft skin just under one eye. Shiro lies there, frozen, and Keith does the same to the other and then presses a kiss against the tip of his nose.

He looks down at Shiro, face still soft and eyes still slitted and watchful and just when Shiro’s about to give in and beg, Keith is ducking back down and finally finally _finally_ kissing him properly. It’s firm where the others had been light and it lingers where the other had been swift.

But when Shiro goes to open his mouth, to lick at Keith’s lips and beg for more, Keith is pulling away again.

His hands are clenching at Keith’s hips and his chest is heaving under Keith’s hands and he feels keyed up and aching in a way that he rarely feels, especially from so little. 

But then again, he reasons dazedly, nothing from Keith is ever little. He hands his heart to Shiro with the smallest gestures and it make him ache.

_I love you I love you I love you_

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs. His name is all he says.

His hands flex and then, before he consciously decides to do so, he has Keith on his back, hair spilling over their pillows, looking like a vision in the ambient glow from the starlight. 

“Shiro,” Keith sighs out and the hands still on his chest flex and the faintest pinpricks of claws make themselves known.

Shiro settles more firmly into the cradle of his thighs and then finally finally _finally_ kisses Keith the way he wants to. 

Hand move to clench at his shoulders and then to tug him closer, always closer. Shiro falls into him as he licks into Keith’s mouth, feeling the sharp edges of his teeth and the faintest hint of blood from where they’d grown. When he pulls back, Keith is gasping below him and he gets to kiss him how he’d wanted to earlier. His neck, his scar, then back to those kiss bruised lips.

When Keith rolls his hips up against his own he’s almost surprised to find himself hard— the fire in his gut secondary to the desperate want to kiss Keith until the suns go out, the desire to press his love against the seam of his lips and the curve of his jaw. 

Shiro rolls his hips down hard, pressing Keith into the mattress below them and Keith whispers his name against his lips until Shiro licks the taste of his name from his mouth. Time stretches and Shiro loses himself to the push and pull, devouring what Keith so eagerly offers up. He could spend hours kissing Keith and maybe he does until the fire in their gut demands attention. 

When Shiro finally manages to unclench a hand from Keith’s waist, he skates it down, ignoring where Keith’s hard and aching to press his fingers between his thighs. He’s still open and wet from earlier in the night, and he drinks in Keith’s gasp as he sinks one and then two fingers into him.

“Shiro,” Keith pleads against his lips. “Shiro, _Shiro, please._ ”

He doesn’t try to stop himself from giving in, doesn’t try to slow down. Keith is begging for him quietly even though he never needs to— Shiro would give him everything.

Shiro’s breath catches in his chest at the first push. Keith is wet and warm and tight though not enough to hurt him and Shiro keeps pressing until his hips are flush against Keith and there’s no where else to go. He stays like that for a moment, eyes falling shut at the sensations lancing up his spine. 

He blinks and then there’s a hand against his cheek, thumb sweeping against his bottom lip and he pressed a kiss against it even as his hips begin to rock. Keith’s long legs lock themselves agains his waist, heels burying themselves just above his ass, urging him to move quicker and harder.

The sweet, “ _Shiro,_ ” comes out broken and begging and the heat low in his gut burns brighter at the sound and his movements get rougher with his desire to hear it again. He wants to hear how good Keith feels— how good Shiro _makes_ him feel.

The hand against his check trembles and Shiro stills—kissing away the small sound of protest— to catch it in his own. He tangles their fingers together and squeezes gently as he presses it into the bedding and Keith grips it back tight, claws pricking against his skin. Shiro never wants to let him go.

“Keith,” he rumbles, voice gone dark with lust and love. He hold Keith still, one hand on his, the other still clenched tight at his waist and he grinds into him hard. Keith keens and Shiro noses against his jaw and down to his neck. “ _Keith,_ ” he says again. “ _Fuck_ —baby you feel so good, always so good to me.”

The hand on his back scrabbles for purchase and words spill from him like a tidal wave.

“I got you,” he whispers into the crook of his neck between licking bites. “I got you, baby— Keith, you’re _perfect—Keith._ ” Keith shudders around him, mouth falling open and Shiro can hear the soft panting cries he lets out in time with his hips. He grinds in again just to hear the rhythm stutter and crack. 

“Wanna be good to you,” Shiro pants out, wrecked. “Am I—am I good to you baby?” 

“ _Always._ ” Keith’s voice is cracked and rasping and the kiss he presses against Shiro’s temple sets him ablaze. “Take care of me so good.”

It’s all Shiro’s ever wanted. He’d spent so long hurting and then so long hurting others just to survive, to live through a war, but now he gets to have this. He gets to have Keith in his arms—he gets to make him feel good. 

“I love you,” Shiro vows and Keith whimpers. “Love you until the stars go out and—and then after that too.”

Keith’s mouth falls open in a silent scream as he shatters, shaking apart below him. His back arches, hand clamping tight on his own as he shudders. Shiro watches it happen, greedy, and Keith is beautiful as his eyes go sightless with pleasure wet with tears from feeling so good, and his head falls back against the pillow, throat on display and black hair spilling around him like a vision. 

Shiro slows to a gentle rock as Keith pants below him, watches as he slowly comes back to himself. A tear makes its way down his cheek and Shiro kisses it away and then kisses bruised lips. Keith hums against him and his thighs flex around Shiro’s hips, encouraging him to move. 

The hand on his back slides over his skin, mapping out the ridges and dips of his skin, tracing over scars without even needing to see them. 

“Shiro,” Keith sighs out. “Shiro, please—” 

Shiro shifts closer, burying his face back into Keith’s neck. His cheeks burn, flushed hot as he pants against sweat soaked skin, hips now working furiously into Keith who does nothing but egg him on even as he must be moving into oversensitivity. He wants so badly, he wants he wants he wants—

“Love you,” Keith rasps against his temple. “I, _ah_ —I love you—Shiro—”

Tears prick at his eyes and Shiro falls over the edge with a choked sob, hips stuttering against Keith as he empties himself inside. Keith’s legs guide him into slow, rolling rocks, fucking him through it until finally Shiro collapses against him fully. 

Shiro doesn’t bother trying to pull away, to keep his weight off of him. Keith can take it but more than that he wants to—loves having Shiro weighing him down afterwards. The hand on his back moves up, squeezing gently at the nape of his neck until Shiro sighs and then further still to begin carding through his hair. Pressed this close, Shiro can almost feel the way their heartbeats slow, almost in sync. The urge to cry subsides as his breathing slows and Keith’s hand continues its slow sweep through his hair, claws dragging against his skin but oh so careful so as not to hurt. 

Shiro’s own thumb sweeps against Keith’s other hand, still held in his while he shifts his other arm to bring Keith in closer. 

The silence stretches, comfortable, and Shiro begins to drift when Keith moves ever so slightly, cheek resting against his head. 

“I like how much you want me.” It’s said softly but also like a fact. 

Shiro flushes and tries to hide his face even further into Keiths neck, though there’s nowhere to go.

The hand running through his hair doesn’t slow.

“I love you, and I want you and I’d follow you to the ends of the universe and right over it,” Keith whispers and it’s an echo of the vow he made just over a year ago. 

Shiro shifts just enough to peak up at Keith through one eye and he’s rewarded with a smile, softer than anything so full of love that it aches to look at. He’d said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world and it shocks him a little no matter how many times Keith tells him. 

Shiro’s chest swells until his breath shudders out of him.

Keith nuzzles against him, sleepy and languid, legs tangling with his own and then presses another kiss to his temple before nosing at him in a silent plea that Shiro is helpless to refuse. He pulls away from Keith’s neck and shifts closer until he can press one against his lips.

He thinks Keith says his name but it’s lost between them as they kiss and kiss and kiss and finally Shiro untangles their hands and tucks himself against Keith better, head coming to rest against his chest while Keith locks both arms around his waist, like he’s trying to make sure Shiro doesn’t move away. As if he’d ever leave.

Below his head, Shiro listens to the steady beat of Keiths heart, constant and inexorable. Shiro’s heart beat in time with it, a tattoo of _I love you I love you I love you_

He wants to say it, so he does and above him Keith smiles as they both slip back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PatchOfFeathers)


End file.
